Pink Smoke

Written for:  Sunday Muse #114

I am a ghost,
your host of pink
smoke, blown
cotton candy. There
you are, down below
me. See how you are
stuck in a bundle
of branches, thorns
piercing you. Chances
ruined. I said
I was not ready,
yet you plucked
my stem, leaving
a pale blush–a ghost,
your host.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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21 Responses to Pink Smoke

  1. hank77 says:


    One can often be cruel to things of beauty. But being short-lived there
    is always a new replacement



  2. Helen Dehner says:

    I like how you turned pink smoke into a ghost and cotton candy, nicely done. Missing our State Fair and cotton candy this year …. maybe next.


  3. ” I said
    I was not ready,”

    Nuff said. Anything after that gets mirror-deflected off boundaries, the reverse of gas-lighting. WONDERFUL poem!


  4. Ah, the tragedy of not ready and consequences. Such poignant words.


  5. Carrie V. H. says:

    Love the depth this poem holds Sara! Beautifully done!


  6. wyndolynne says:

    Haunted and coated by the very thing desired for its appearance only. Perfect.


  7. qbit says:

    “I was not ready,
    yet you plucked
    my stem, leaving
    a pale blush–a ghost,
    your host.” — terrific.


  8. Beverly Crawford says:

    Plucked too soon and lost in a puff of smoke. Beautiful metaphor.


  9. Truedessa says:

    Chances ruined, a ghostly reminder of life.


  10. Susie Clevenger says:

    Sadly cruelty doesn’t spare even the most beautiful. Love your take on the image.


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